


Saying Goodbye

by lyriumandbiotics



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: Tranquility, Goodbyes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rite of Tranquility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6773098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumandbiotics/pseuds/lyriumandbiotics





	Saying Goodbye

Two days after his harrowing, Anders woke up feeling better than he had in ages. The two days of recovery was agony, and he had been sicker than ever been before. But now it was over, he succeeded. Being a full mage meant the danger of being made tranquil was passed. After a small breakfast of oatmeal and toast, Anders set out to find Karl. Though they were both harrowed mages, they still were not permitted to be together openly. The templars held a lot of power, and Anders was under no illusions that he and Karl’s relationship would suddenly be acceptable. All the same, though, Anders wanted to see him. They’d been separated for months, sleeping in different quarters after Karl passed his harrowing. The only time they’d had together was stolen kisses in the library or lingering touches at the dinner table. 

Anders started with the third floor library. It was one of Karl’s favourite places in the tower, since it was quiet and had few templars on patrol. But Karl wasn't in the library, or the mess hall, or in the any of his regular spots. Anders spent the better part of an hour searching for him, and was starting to grow worried. It had only been two days, but that was more than enough time for something bad to happen. Perhaps Karl was ill, or injured. Or, more likely, he’d gotten himself into trouble and was sent to solitary as punishment. 

Anders found himself on the fifth floor, outside of First Enchanter Irving’s quarters. He knocked twice, and a voice from within bid him to come inside. Anders pushed the door open and stepped inside. Though Irving was one of the most important mages in the tower, his quarters were relatively modest. Sure, he had far more space than anyone else, but most of the walls were covered in bookcases. There were a few overstuffed chairs and a soft carpet. A partition sat between the office and what was Irving’s bedroom. Irving sat at the desk, head bent low over some parchment. The quill in his hand fluttered with the quick movements of his hand. He looked up from whatever he had been writing and greeted Anders with a smile, "Anders.”

"First Enchanter," Anders responded. 

"Congratulations on passing your harrowing," Irving said.

Anders nodded, "thank you.” He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. “Do you know where Karl Thekla is?"

Irving didn't answer right away. He cleared his throat and put down his quill first. "Why don't you have a seat?" 

Anders didn’t like his tone, it was too serious. Something bad had indeed happened. "No, thank you," Anders said, "I just want to know where Karl is, and I'll be out of your way."

“Please, Anders,” Irving said. He gestured to the chair opposite him with an open palm, “please sit down.”

"No."

Irving sighed and raised his eyes to meet Anders’s. "Karl was transferred," he said, in the same quiet tone usually reserved for frightened children, "to the circle in Kirkwall."

For a moment, Anders was unable to breathe. It felt as if his heart had stopped beating. "What? No! No, no, no. This is not...you cannot be serious." 

"I'm sorry, Anders," Irving said, "I know you were close."

Anger bubbled up inside Anders and bile rose in his throat. This was impossible. They couldn’t transfer someone just like that, with no warning. Karl couldn’t have agreed to this, could he? Was it a punishment? Was it Anders’s fault? He wanted to ask Irving, but his words failed him. The only thing he could choke out was, “Why?”

"It was not my decision," Irving explained, "they are in need of more experienced mages, and Karl was among our most talented. I had to send aid." 

“This is bull shit!” Anders screamed, “they can’t treat us this way! They can’t send people across the sea without permission!”

Irving pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I understand you are upset, Anders. But please, don’t shout at me. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, try to calm your mind.”

Anders turned and slammed the door shut behind him. He headed directly for his quarters, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the hallway. Tears were burning in his eyes, and he didn’t think he could hold himself together much longer. The second the door to his room closed, he collapsed onto his knees. Tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks and he did nothing to stop them. 

Karl was gone, and he was alone.

***

Anders did not sleep that night. Instead he lay on his bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling, thinking about Karl. He’d always known how dangerous it was to get involved with someone. Karl always told him it was just a game, not real. They were just having fun and wasting time. Anders believed him at first, when their relationship had been nothing more than fevered trysts in darkened corners. When had it changed? When had he started to care? It was difficult to say. 

‘Maybe I can escape and go to Kirkwall,’ Anders thought. It was foolish, though. Kirkwall was just across the Waking Sea, but it may as well have been in another world. It was not easy to get there, especially for an apostate with no coin to his name. 

Night turned into day, and Anders grudgingly left his bed to go to breakfast. He felt horrible, and the last thing he wanted to do was see other people. However, he knew the templars would come looking for him if he did not show up for his morning duties. Anders pulled on a pair of clean robes and without pausing to shave, shuffled down to the mess hall. He sat alone near the back of the room, where he absently pushed his oatmeal around with his spoon instead of eating it.

"Are you okay?" 

Anders looked up from his bowl to see a young elven woman gazing at him. She was four or five years his junior, with straw coloured hair and large brown eyes. Like most elves, she was tall and thin, with long lanky limbs and pointed ears. He'd seen her before, of course. She was rather infamous among her peers. People talked about her often, how she was one of the most talented and promising mages in the tower. 

"I'm fine," Anders answered. 

"You don't look fine," the girl set down her plate and pulled out the chair across from him. She sat, and her eyes found his. Anders looked away and did not respond.

"They sent your boyfriend away," she said, "I'm sorry."

"He is not my -" Anders shook his head, attempting to clear away the anger that bubbled up inside him, "It doesn't matter. Please excuse me, I have duties to attend to." Anders pushed himself away from the table and turned to walk away. 

The girl called after him, "they haven't left yet, you know. The group going to Kirkwall. They're still outside, waiting for a boat."

Anders paused and turned around, "what? How do you know that?"

She smirked at him, "I have my methods. Do you want to know where they are?"

Anders sat down again, gazing at her face, trying to decide if she was trustworthy. "How do I know you're not pulling a prank? Or setting me up? Did one of the templars bribe you?"

"For the love of Andraste, no," the girl said with a laugh. "You're not the only one who hates living here, you know. If you want, I can show you where they are. I'll come with you, so if you get in trouble, I will too."

Anders paused to consider. If he was caught sneaking out again, he’d surely get whipped. Anders didn’t care, though. He had the chance to see Karl again, and damned if he wasn't going to take it. "Show me.”

The elf nodded and stood up, "I'm Anabel, by the way."

"Anders."

Anabel grinned at him, "I know. The story of your legendary swim across Lake Calenhad will be told for generations."

Anders huffed out a small laugh and followed Anabel out of the mess hall. She led him up two floors to the study hall, and gestured towards the back of the room. A line of windows stood in the wall there. Most of them didn’t open for “safety reasons”, but Anders knew one of them that did. He’d used it before to try to escape the tower, six months after he’d been brought there. Anabel was apparently well versed in escaping, too, because she knew exactly what window to open. She ducked down and slid outside onto the ledge. Elves were generally lighter and more graceful than humans, and Anabel proved to be no exception. She climbed down expertly and in a faster time than Anders had ever done it. Once she was on the ground, Anders started his descent.

“This way,” Anabel said as Anders reached the ground. She took off towards the tree line, towards the south side of the island. They trekked through the forest for almost an hour until they reached a clearing. Anabel had told the truth. There was a group of templars, about five of them, and several mages scattered around the clearing. Anders spotted Karl on the far side, sitting on the grass with his legs stretched out in front of him. 

“I’ll distract the templars,” Anabel whispered. Anders was about to tell her it was too dangerous, but she was already striding off towards the group. Anders thought she must be crazy, waltzing directly into a group of templars when she was clearly not supposed to be there. Anabel walked up to a young blonde haired templar and began chatting with him. Anders watched with bated breath to see what would happen. The templar didn't seem angry, and he didn’t raise the alarm, so Anders moved quickly around the outside edge of the clearing until he was behind Karl. He picked up a pebble and threw it, hitting Karl in the back of the head with a soft thwunk.

"Ow!" Karl exclaimed, his hand flying up to rub the spot of the impact. "What in the name of-" He turned around, his eyes widening as he spotted Anders. Karl jumped to his feet and rushed over to him.

"Anders," Karl said as he flung himself into Anders's arms. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Anders wrapped his arms around Karl's waist and pulled him close, fingers clutching at the fabric of his robes. "Karl," he breathed, "oh, Maker. Karl, I-mmm."

Karl cut him off with a kiss. His mouth tasted sweet, like summer wine. Anders tightened his grip on Karl’s waist as Karl wound his fingers into Anders’s hair. The kiss wasn't frenzied or passionate, as a lot of their kisses tended to be. Instead, it was soft and tender, full of saddness and fear. They broke apart after a while, and Anders noticed a tear glistening on Karl's cheek. Anders wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. 

"I'm sorry," Karl said, "I wanted to see you, to say goodbye. But they wouldn't let me."

"I know," Anders said. "Karl, this is my fault. They're making you leave because of me."

Karl caressed Anders’s face with one hand. ”No,” he said, "that's not true. You mustn’t blame yourself."

Anders leaned his cheek into Karl’s palm and closed his eyes, "I can't survive here without you." His voice broke, and he had to swallow hard a couple of times before he regained enough composure to speak again. "I can't face this alone."

"You can," Karl said, "you will.”

"I can't," Anders repeated, “I'm not strong enough."

Karl pressed his forehead against Anders’s. “I know you don’t think so, but you are. You are strong enough, Anders. You are brave enough.”

Anders knew it wasn’t true, but he didn’t argue. The two stayed like that for a moment, foreheads pressed together, quietly breathing each other in. Karl twirled some stray hairs at the back of Anders’s neck around his fingers, and suddenly Anders couldn’t stand it anymore. The emotion that had been burning inside him was about to make him burst. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue for months finally ready to be said. 

"Karl, I lo-" 

Karl interrupted him with another a soft, quick peck on his lips. "Shh, no,” he whispered, “don't say it. The templars can't keep us apart forever. I'll go to Kirkwall, and I'll wait for you. When you get the chance, come find me. You can say it then." 

Anders swallowed hard and took a deep breath, “okay, I’ll wait.” He glanced over Karl’s shoulder towards the group. Anabel was still chatting to the blonde templar, and nobody seemed to notice Karl’s absence. Anders knew that their luck would soon run out, though. "You better go before they notice," he said.

Karl nodded and untangled his fingers from Anders’s hair. Anders dropped his arms from Karl's waist and the two stepped back. Their hands lingered for a moment, fingers intertwined with each other’s. Neither wanted to let go.

"Write me," Anders said. 

Karl gave him a sad smile, "every day." With that, he gave Anders’s knuckles a soft kiss and turned to stride back towards the group waiting by the water. 

This time, Anders refused to let the tears fall. He watched Karl walk away with renewed determination. "I'll find you in Kirkwall," he said under his breath, "and we'll finally get to be together without fear."

***

Almost ten years passed before Anders saw Karl again. He'd finally managed to buy passage to Kirkwall, and he planned on helping Karl escape the circle once and for all. But there had been no correspondence from Karl in weeks, and Anders started to worry. He began to plan a way to break Karl out, to free him from the chantry’s grip once and for all. One day, a young mage by the name of Hawke came around asking for his map to the Deep Roads, and Anders seized his opportunity.

“Help me,” he told her, “and my maps are yours.”

Hawke agreed, and Anders told her his plan. They’d go to the Chantry late that night, and hope Karl was alone. If he wasn’t, Anders would slay any templar that stood in his way. He’d been apart from Karl for far too long. To his surprise, Hawke did not argue with him. 

It was well past midnight when Hawke met up with him. She had gathered a group of friends including her brother, who was not a mage, an elven warrior, and a dwarf. It was quite the varied group, but Anders hardly cared. He just wanted to see Karl. Inside the chantry was eerily quiet, and a feeling of sick dread washed over Anders. Quiet was not a good thing, it felt like a trap. 

Hawke went first, her staff illuminating the dark stairway. Anders followed close behind her. Karl was not difficult to find, however. He was standing at the top of the stairs, back turned to them. Something was definitely not right. 

“Karl?” Anders called out. 

“Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would not stop.”

It was Karl’s voice, but something was off. He sounded too calm, too serious, too...empty. There was no emotion in his voice at all. “What’s wrong?” Anders asked, “why are you talking like-”

Karl turned around, and Anders saw a red sun emblazoned on his forehead. Anders’s vision darkened, and he thought he might pass out. “I was too rebellious, like you,” Karl said in that empty voice, “the templars knew I had to be...made an example of.”

“No!” Anders strangled voice echoed in the bare halls of the chantry.

“How else will mages ever master themselves? You’ll understand, Anders. As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself.”

Anders heard them now, footsteps on the padded stairs. Templars emerged from the stairway behind them. Ten, maybe fifteen of them. They all drew their swords simultaneously. 

“This is the apostate,” Karl said. 

It happened in an instant. One second, Anders was in full control of himself. The next, he was not. Anders felt the tingle of the spirit’s energy all over his body as Justice took control. He dropped to his knees, trying to fight it. He didn’t need to give the templars another reason to hunt him. It was no use. Justice was too strong. “No!” Justice shouted, “you will never take another mage as you took him!”

The templars attacked, and all Anders could do was watch. He watched as Justice slew them one after another. Hawke and the others fought alongside him, picking off the stray few near the back of the group. After the last Templar had fallen, Anders was immediately back in control. He turned to face Karl, who looked quite pale and frightened. 

“I - Anders? What did you do?” Karl asked, sounding more like his normal self again, “It’s like you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like.”

“Yes, Anders, what did you do?” Hawke asked, “I thought tranquil were cut off from the Fade forever.”

“When you’re tranquil, you never think on your life before,” Karl said, “but it’s like the Fade itself is inside Anders. Burning, like a sun.”

Anders wasn’t sure how to answer that question. His throat was dry, so he had to clear it several times before he could speak, “I have some...unique circumstances, yes. But, Karl, what happened? How did they get you?”

“The templars here are far more vigilant than in Fereldan,” Karl answered, “they found a letter I was writing you. You cannot imagine it, Anders. All the colour, all the music in the world, gone. I would gladly give up my magic. But this? I’ll never be whole again.”

Hawke glanced at Anders,but he looked away quickly. Anders looked away, back towards Karl. He looked almost as Anders remembered. He was still tall and lean, with sunkissed brown skin and thick wavy hair. The only change was in the colour of his hair. Karl always had a few grey hairs, but now they covered most of his head. It was even in his beard. Anders met his eyes, and they were full of fear and desperation.

“Please, kill me before I forget again!” Karl said, “I don’t know how you brought it back, but it’s fading!”

“Karl, no!” Anders cried. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, kill him. 

“Maybe we can find a cure?” Hawke suggested.

“Can you cure a beheading?” Anders snapped, “the dreams of tranquil mages are severed. There’s nothing left of them to fix.”

“I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet,” Karl said.

“I would rather die than be made tranquil,” Hawke said quietly, ‘help him.”

Anders took a breath then looked up into Karl’s eyes, “I got here too late. I’m sorry, Karl. I’m so sorry.” Anders took a step forward, taking Karl’s face between his hands. He pressed a desperate kiss to Karl’s lips. Karl shuddered and returned the kiss, but broke away quickly.

“Now! It’s fading!”

Anders pressed his forehead against Karl’s and closed his eyes. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths to steady his hand. Then he tapped into the magical energy inside him and brought forth a spell. A simple lightning spell was all he needed. “Goodbye,” Anders whispered as he pushed his palm against Karl’s chest. Anders allowed the current of electricity to surge through his palm into Karl’s chest, stopping his heart. Karl’s body stiffened for a moment, then went entirely limp. 

Anders knelt, bringing Karl’s body softly to the ground with him. He stayed bent over Karl’s body for a long time, until he was sure he had himself under control. When he finally stood, he found Hawke and the others waiting at the bottom of the stairs. 

“We better go, before more Templars arrive,” he said, his voice soft and low. Without looking at anyone, he headed out the door and straight to his clinic in Darktown.

To say Anders cried himself to sleep that night would have been incorrect. He surely cried, for hours on end. He cried until he retched, acid and bile burning his throat raw. Eventually the tears did run out, as the well of sorrow in Anders’s body emptied. But even afterwards, as he lay exhausted and numb, he did not sleep. 

Karl was dead by his hand, but it was not his fault. Anders knew that. The Chantry was to blame for this, nobody else. They had broken the law to make Karl tranquil, and they were going to pay. Anders would make damn sure of it.


End file.
